Do Dragons Dream?
by Dindrane
Summary: Simple questions lead to surprising answers as Seto searches for that "something more" to fill his life. One shot, Seto/Jou, Seto's POV, non-graphic yaoi. This is my first fanfic! R&R please.


Disclaimer: I don't own Yugi-oh, but if wishes were winged-ponies Pegasus would be mine.

A/N: This was originally written as a poem which I converted to story format, so if the wording seems a little weird that's why. This is dedicated to Guardian 381 who actually got me off my rear and gave me the courage to follow through with posting this. I hope it's up to snuff!

~*~*~*~

Where have all the Duel Monsters gone? 

I walk alone through the park-its evening, sundown-lost in thought. I feel like hell. Once the game was everything-pride, passion, power, dominance, respect-somehow its faded, resplendent still, but faded. I'm not sure who I am…

This is just a story, some other rich boy's tale, not mine, it can't be mine. A story born of another's fantasy, a desire better left unnamed. After all, there is nothing I want I cannot have.

Our paths cross and I am filled with rage, golden-haired and chocolate-eyed, a puppy dog in human form. I banter and I bait, demanding his submission. He's inferior, a mere mutt who needs to learn who his betters are and how to keep his place.

He doesn't back down-he never does. He's not one to walk away from a fight. He doesn't see that he's just dirty, poor, white trash. He thinks he's equal to me, when in reality he's a dog not fit to lick my boots. All guts, no brains-he'll get no thanks from me. Whatever part he played, whatever aid he gave my brother was not sought by me and certainly was unnecessary. I am always in control and need no one's help.

He glares at me in anger, hatred in his eyes as I antagonize. "Come on you mutt, let's get this done. I'll break you down, whip you, and have you on the run -just as I have before. We don't need duel monsters to play this game and when we're done you'll be on your knees before your master- a whimpering beaten pup."

The encounter ends without clear victory. I refuse to look inside my own frozen, empty shell to understand why I am still unsatisfied. Instead, I look at him-golden hair of sunshine, milk chocolate eyes, and a little defiant swagger in his hips-as he walks away from me. I stand alone, self-defeated.

This is just a story, some other rich boy's tale, a story of two brothers who got along quite well.

Home at last, I head for bed only to find it occupied by a dark tousle-haired kid.

"Mokuba?"

"Yes, big brother?" He yawns and stretches his arms out wide. I pick him up as he wraps his arms around me and I take him to his room.

"Seto, I tried to stay up to wait for you."

"You shouldn't have, Kuba. Its late, you have school."

"I know. Stay, just a little while?"

"Okay."

He closes his big brown eyes, his breathing deepens-this is peace. Here with this child I am safe. All that I am, all that I do is worth it for this simple feeling, for the few moments that I can just **be. **I move to go and he opens sleepy eyes. "Big brother, do dragons dream?"

I'm startled by the question. "I don't know, Kuba. What do you think?"

"I think they must." He answers decisively.

I smile a little. "What do dragons dream about?"

"Mmmm…" he yawns, "glory and battles…you're the Lord of Dragons, you'd know better than me…" he drifts off.

" 'Night, sleepyhead." I slip away silently, left alone again inside my head. I go to bed.

This is just a story that somehow has become this rich boy's tale. A story born of fantasy, a desire still unnamed. Perhaps there is something I want I cannot have.

Worthless pup, he's not so tough-streetwise and ignorant-a stray, a mongrel, a mutt. Oh, how I'd like to take him in-all guts, all heart. How the hell did I let him win? He'd never now allow me to get close to him. I am the enemy. He'd snap and snarl, distrust any attempt I made to change the rules of the game we've played.

Long ago, I learned-emotion causes pain and trust earns only betrayal. I cannot allow myself the luxury of weakness, not even the affection a master gives his dog. Better to be alone with a heart of stone, dependent only on myself.

Our paths cross again-its evening, dusk-same place, same time, same bat-channel. I know he hates me, hates me for the venom-coated words stinging like a whip, the humiliation, the mockery, and the arrogant, egotistical attitude I use as my defense-like Mirror Force-slicing opposition in half.

He doesn't even notice me and that I will not tolerate. "Look at me, you dog!" Few have dared to challenge me, look me in the eye openly. None withstand my wrath. Yet time and time again, he comes back to do exactly that.

All he does is wearily slump to the ground, his back against a brick wall in the park where we always seem to meet. Is that a black eye and a split lip I see? My anger rages senselessly-no one lays a hand on my puppy dog! Mine… I wish he were mine. I'd mark him too in other sweeter, not so obvious ways.

So what was it, a dogfight you were in? Before the thought escapes my mouth the lights go on. I'd heard the stories…tough boy, wrong side of the tracks, broken home, drunken father…and yet, the light inside-he's always glowed. His pain-it never shows. All guts, all heart, always there looking out for others. How can he shine, when I am cold and bitter, poisoned, empty?

This is just a story and it is this rich boy's tale, a story born of memories, a hard-forgotten hell. I tried so hard to please him, that man who took us in. I thought he was the answer to a prayer. My brother and I would stay together and become his heirs. But all he taught me was that betrayal follows trust and a frozen heart doesn't suffer pain.

I slump down beside him, this boy, this golden demi-god who seems soaked in sunshine, without a word. He looks at me with warm, trusting chocolate eyes until he realizes whom he's sitting by. He turns away, he tries to stand, to get away, to hide his wounded pride.

"You will never be like me." I say softly.

He stops, bewildered. "I wouldn't want to be." He snarls defensively.

My sweet golden pup, I doubt he understood. Whatever had been done to him he had managed to survive, to stay alive inside and in possession of his heart. I would not see it broken.

"He beats you."

"What're you talking about?"

"Your--father--beats--you." I say it very slowly this time.

"Huh? Where'd you get a crazy idea like that?"

"Unfortunately, I can't help you-I can't even help myself."

"You're losing it, Kaiba." Ummm… well, yes, I rather agree with that assessment.

I'm still sitting on the ground. He comes back and sits beside me. My head is on my knees; his is laid back against the wall. Neither of us willing to look the other in the eye as silence fills the void between us.

I realize that this truly has nothing to do with our respective fathers or how they beat us. It's more about reaction, response, cause creating effect, the lies we lead, and those we allow to slip past them. Perhaps, where it really matters we are akin-attitude and thick skin removed, shields down, and masks destroyed-we are still just little boys, kismet and soul-mated.

"Your dad hit you too?" he asks. I nod in answer.

He's smiling, looking up at a star-splattered sky. "If you sorta squint just right that group of stars there," he jabs a finger at the sky for emphasis, "looks just like a Red Eyes Black Dragon ready to fight."

"Hmm…I think you need to get your eyes checked, Wheeler. That is most definitely a Blue Eyes White Dragon…" I'm taunting him. I know it. He knows it.

"Nah…"

"How can you possibly see a black dragon made out of white stars?" The challenge rises in my voice, tinged with spite. I can't help it, it's who I am, it's what I do.

But instead of snapping up the proffered bait he surprises me instead. "Do dragons dream, do ya think?"

I nearly jump out of my skin. His voice is echoed by my brother's asking the same question only a night or so ago.

"I think they must." He continues, oblivious to my shock.

"Why?" I ask so softly the question is barely more than a whisper. I wonder if this night has more hidden mysteries to reveal.

"Because dragons themselves are dreams. Maybe both our dragons are in the stars. The black one shines in the reflected light of the white-the same way the moon reflects the sun." He stops suddenly, self-conscious, shy. Maybe he wonders why he's babbling such nonsense to someone who will only use it to humiliate him in some awful mocking way.

As for me, I'm momentarily speechless. I open my mouth, close it, and try again.

"Deep, puppy, very deep."

The duel monsters have reappeared; they were always here. Resplendent in their glory and reflected in his light.

It seems that he is the White Dragon I have always loved so much, just as I am the Black. Is it irony or destiny that causes us to dwell in the other's deck? Will I only truly shine if my dark reflects his light?

This is just a story, a story of my heart, born of a sliver of hope that what was once impossible maybe yet can be.

"You hate me, don't you?" I ask cautiously.

"Nah, it's your self-righteous, smug attitude I hate." He looks me in the eye. His bottom lip is swollen into an unintentional pout. The bruise around his eye is large and dark. He looks more like a puppy now than he ever has. I try to suppress a grin. He cocks his head quizzically adding to the effect. I can't help the laughter that bubbles up within and escapes, unbidden into the night air. It seems my profound control has failed me.

"What the…" Anger grows in his chocolate eyes.

I shut up and rise, briefly dusting away any debris that may have attached itself to me.

He is my hikari and I his yami. We are as joined as Yugi is to a certain pharaoh, two parts of a single soul, one without the other, never to be whole. He is my light, bright as a noble Blue Eyes White Dragon. I am his dark, unknown and unknowable, an unrelenting Red Eyes Black Dragon.

"We're not going to fight." I tell him as he stands to face me.

I came here seeking contemplation, trying to comprehend the hollow depths within. It's true; I cannot help him. I can only try to be his friend and in time perhaps more. I will not take his dignity. I will respect his wish to do this on his own. His hell can be no worse than mine. He has earned my respect because he hasn't allowed the abuse he has taken to break him. He would never allow his suffering to shut him down inside and build cold, impenetrable walls to barricade his heart within. He has more courage than I.

I scribble quickly on a business card. I flick it carelessly at his chest. By reflex he catches it.

"What's this?"

"It's how to contact me-any time, anywhere." I start to walk away.

"Why?"

I look at my boots, the toes are scuffed, how intriguing…what can I say to this golden boy, this dragon of light, this puppy, my puppy, my love, my Jou? I turn to him again.

"Maybe we can do this again…" It's lame, I know, "you don't even have to get beaten up first." I add with a classic smirk.

He looks at me in shock, then stares blankly at the card. I continue to walk away.

"Hey, maybe I will."

I nod, still with my back to him. I don't look back, don't want him to see the joy his simple words have given me.

This is just a story and not mine alone it seems. The hope I feel frightens me, but retreat is not an option. I need to know that I am more than an ice-cold CEO.

Yes, Mokuba, I believe that dragons do indeed dream. They are the stuff dreams are made of, our secret wishes and our deepest fears. They dream of flying free, wings stretched tip to tip brushing, touching another's, rising in victory-they soar.

****


End file.
